


Don't Drink the Seawater

by HarpersFaery



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: And dragons of course, And the rest of Thedas that hasn't already been gone over, Crack and Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Headcanons everywhar, I'm going to flesh the Void out of the Qunari characters if it kills me, M/M, Making shit up as I go along, Modern Girl in Thedas, Modern OC in Thedas, Poking at Qunari with sticks, Psychology and religion yo, Qunari, Slow Build, headcanons, really slow build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4260885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpersFaery/pseuds/HarpersFaery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Side Effects include (but are not limited to): Dehydration, dry mouth, rapid heartbeat, low blood pressure, headaches, confusion, vomiting, and hallucinations of very large, very religious horned giants of the gunmetal grey variety.</p><p>"I like my Kirkwall shaken, not stirred."</p><p>"I'm detecting just a <em>hint</em> of sarcasm."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this will be my first written fanwork in years. More or less, it is a way to get me back up on the horse, out of the depths of depression, and back into the typing game; meaning I'm going to start with the basics and go from there. 
> 
> Grabbed this idea (by the horns) and running with it to see how far I can get. Hopefully as far as Act III.
> 
> Updates will be whenever I can get to them and tags will be updated appropriately with each chapter.

Twisting, turning, over, under–

Black, black _everywhere._ Even if she could see there was no light here, she had lost hers back before, before all this.

It was foolish, so foolish and now her fingers scrabbled at anything they could find purchase to. Just to stop this endless, swiftly flowing free-fall–

_WHAM!_

Another hit whited out her vision with dazzling stars in front of tightly closed eyes as dizzying pain shot through her side. Still she kept her mouth clenched _shut._ One cry and she'd be done. She had to concentrate, any second she could be torn to shreds, she had to–

Her shoulder slammed into another boulder face, snapping her head back hard and knocking her stupid once again. It was a few minutes too long. She was too limp to fight the current. It jerked her to and fro, leaving her only being able to remember to keep calm and save the breath she had left. Waiting for a chance to escape, and hoping it didn't pull her down further.

_How many seconds did she have left? How much longer was she going to be able to delay the inevitable? She needed air. She needed to BREATHE!_

All at once there was a great heave from the river, like the ocean tide rearing back before battering against the shore. Unable to stop the momentum she was flung forward, dashed upon the solid and unforgivable cave walls, and with a _CRACK_ that she felt all the way in the tips of her toes even the frazzling static behind her eyelids fell into total darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright kids, here we go! I know it's a short start but it's my first kick-off. Off on a whirlwind adventure! 
> 
> Crossing my fingers on _hopefully_ getting this pumped and ready to go. Bit of a focus point really.


	2. And in the Darkness

The unnatural calm jarred her from unconsciousness.

There was no movement. No roaring of the current in her ears, only the calm silence that encased her like a womb yet as still as a grave. As her consciousness slowly grew clearer there was unnatural warmth lancing through her temple, along with the entirety of her skin tingling with a thrumming, gentle heat, enveloping her in the softest wool.

For the moment, laying there in the dark, a strange green flashing on the sides of her fluttering lids, she forgot where she was and went to breathe.

Karmen was quickly snapped back to reality as water came rushing into her mouth and throat, dousing her lungs in ice. Choking, and vainly trying to hold it back, the temperature around her suddenly flipped on its end. With the illusion shattered daggers of cold stabbed into her flesh.

She flailed uselessly in the water. Already starved of oxygen past her breaking point it was in her hysteria that something above her caught her strained eyes and shone with the brilliance of the sun.

No.

That was wrong.

It wasn't some warped imitation of the sun that her dying brain was projecting, it _was_ the sun. It’s light cutting into the black gloom around her like a holy blade and beckoning her to safety.

She scrambled for the opening like a madwoman despite the dim spots dotting her vision as she tried not to inhale again. The hole, it was close, so terribly close she could grasp it, when suddenly it became farther away.

To her horror she realized it was shrinking.

_'NO!'_

It was excruciating and slow, as if the pitch black around her brought time to a leisurely crawl instead of the frenzied panic she swam in. Muscles wrenched by her trip through the shooter screamed in pain but she fought for the bright circle with everything that was left in her. She kicked and clawed at the water around her savagely, finally gaining ground.

In one split second it expanded before her eyes, ballooning out in a brilliant, golden light, and only just for a second swearing she saw shadows cast upon it, before the brightness swallowed her up.

She broke the surface with a crest and gasped violently.

Air! _Air!_

Every bone in her body, her head that streamed that strange heat over her face, all ached like a wildfire as her lungs took in breath after sweet, agonizing breath into her rattling, empty chest. She kicked her legs forward but instead of hitting the nothingness of that cave she hit.. _wood?_

The unexpected appearance of a floor tripped her up and sent her sprawling into a wall. Grasping blindly, she found an edge, hugging it desperately. Her lungs clenched and sputtered weakly, attempting to force out the water inside of her. There she hung, a wet rag, stretched and wrought past its limit to the point of fraying into pieces. Loud, deep noises erupted around her, that didn't pulsate and pound with the excruciating throbbing in-between her ears.

No. Not her heartbeat. It was richer... Fuller...

Like talking.

In her state of exhaustion she barely felt the powerful, rough hands that all but dwarfed her own easily pluck her up by her forearms like a prize in a claw machine. Drenched and limp, her small body lifted free from the pool as if she weighed absolutely nothing at all.

Her world soon faded from thought as quick as a candle snuffed out in the wind, plunging her back into a strange greenness that coiled like a waiting serpent on the shores of unconsciousness.

 

_Arms, bodies, hands, hands... They're gentle and firm and **warm** as they lay her down. Words said but she can't hear them. Can't **understand** them. Haze of **everything hurts the touching it HURTS I can't BREATHE someonepleasePLEASE!**_

_Cloudy. Foggy faces that **loom**. Someone touching her head in comfort. Stroking long hair from her forehead. _

_She sobs brokenly._

_Reaching, **reaching** out from the oblivion. Her hand is taken.._

 

 _Yelling. There is yelling now. Dragging her mind out of the fog swallowing it. Stern words. Commanding words. There's no venom in them, only **order.**_  

_There is pain. Only some. An odd **numbness**. She's bound. Her head, her side, like it's trying to keep things in._

_There's a light. Another light. Not bright and yellow and blazing overhead, it's cool, comforting. **Green.** Like everything else on the inside of her eyelids. Something's over her mouth. Then **inside** it. Her lungs inflating all on their own. Crisp, pure, and she drank greedily of it._

_She sighed. Struggling to keep her head up, but she can't **see**.._

 

_..She lay there, groggy and prone, more a boneless fish than a person. Drugged, incoherent, pliant._

_There's no telling just how long she'd been like this, but it felt like **ages**. Since she's moved. Spoken._

_A blurry, red blob appeared just over her face, at the same time arms came up behind her and supported her head and shoulders. Licking at her lips, a whine bubbled up from her chest._

_The red tips, pouring into her mouth in sips. Small. Manageable. Like feeding a child. She's able to get it down with a few tries, with some of it escaping out of the corner of her mouth with a cough._

_It's wiped away by an unseen hand, and she is lowered again into sleep._

 

The world came alive with the sound of bird song. If you could call the piercing velociraptor screaming of gulls anything remotely resembling song.

Awakened by the noise and smell of salt water, it wasn't that much of a surprise that her mind temporarily misplaced itself. For a moment she was off the coast of England, once again greeting the day to the sound of the enormous sea-birds fighting on the roof above her little attic room.

But.. there weren't any seagulls nearby at home, at least not until winter when they flew inland for food, especially any that big, and loud. Wheeling overhead like albino buzzards and just as voracious.

 _'Dive-bombing, little rat-bastards…'_ She thought groggily and with no remorse. Her eyelids cracked open slightly to a wall of fuzzy, beige-toned light.

Where was she?

Wherever it was, it was warm.

As difficult as it was she attempted to gather her thoughts Karmen squinted at inside of what she thought was a tent. It looked like one, certainly, but something wasn’t quite right. Something about the lingering smell that hit the inside of her nose with all the gentleness of a brick to the face. Everything was still blurry, not to mention her head and mouth felt stuffed with cotton. Each time she tipped to one side she felt vertigo take her, along with her sense of balance, pitching it about like one of those carnival rides that go roundy-roundy-throw up.

She reached up to scrub the sleep from her eyes when a jarring pain arched through her right side, jerking her to a stop.

That _hurt._

" _Ow!_ S-shit-!" Karmen jerked as the curse came hissing through her teeth. Her hands soon fell towards the source of the unpleasant sensation gingerly and met a swath of bandages wrapped securely around her ribs, as well as about her shoulders, arms and legs. A roll of her head indicated that, yep, there was a set there too.

Which, incidentally, was exactly where that smell originated from

Her first attempt at sitting up was an absolute failure. She gasped with a sharp cry, curling up on her uninjured side, and riding out the throbbing ache.

Karmen was definitely not trying to move again anytime soon.

_'Must've really gotten the crap kicked out of me..'_

She paused. Lifting up the blanket that covered her torso with slow delicacy, as to not aggravate her wounds, she looked down, only to close her eyes with a pained grimace a few seconds later.  

 _'Don't freak,'_ raced her thoughts. _'Don't freak, don't freak, don't freak.'_

Lost, injured, practically naked. Her day was complete.

Or so she thought.

Just then a gargoyle opened the tent flap and stepped inside. A tall, and noticeably shirtless, gargoyle of remarkable stature and build. Skin the color of cold stone and a set of horns to match.

The thing stared down at her. Through her growing alertness it took little time to realize that it was a _man._

Blinking owlishly she could feel her heart skip and splutter like a dying car engine. What in the hell was this? How hard did she hit her head? The more she stared at the hallucination, because clearly it was the only way for someone like him to exist, the more she could feel anxiety creeping up her spine akin to thousands of marching fire ants.

Karmen tried swallowed the lump in her throat, and failed.

"I.... I guess it'd be too much to ask if you.. spoke English?"

He glowered silently, not at all unlike a statue.

"Yeah, I thought not..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of you will notice that there've been some noticeable changes made in the four chapters. I wasn't where I wanted to be when I first posted this piece but it's here now. This fic is a challenge for me mentally; both idea-wise, and skill-wise. I'm not done with it till I'm done. Which, hopefully, will be soon enough.
> 
> I do have to give credit where credit is due, being the fics that inspired me to go about writing this and jumping onto the Modern Girl into Thedas bandwagon.
> 
> [Ad Infinitum](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2845277/chapters/6381311) by [Stormontheocean](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormontheocean/pseuds/Stormontheocean)  
> [Nightmare Mode](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3710206/chapters/8212627) by [mmesnappysnips (evil_lyte)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_lyte/pseuds/mmesnappysnips)  
> [The Arrowhead](http://archiveofourown.org/works/277720/chapters/440264) by [tinyfierce](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyfierce/pseuds/tinyfierce)  
> [Following Fate](http://archiveofourown.org/works/292562/chapters/468044) by [Taffia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Taffia/pseuds/Taffia)  
> [Blind Panic, Random Direction](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3440570/chapters/7542584) by [Dramatological](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dramatological/pseuds/Dramatological)  
> [Basalit-an](http://archiveofourown.org/works/696342/chapters/1281244) by [FenZev](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FenZev/pseuds/FenZev), [Wintryone](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintryone/pseuds/Wintryone)  
> and [Ah, the Arishok](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1035133/chapters/2063731) by [itsonlyadream8](http://archiveofourown.org/users/itsonlyadream8/pseuds/itsonlyadream8)


	3. The Waking World

She was rather proud of herself for not fainting at the man's alien appearance. It wasn't something she had to worry about, usually, even when descending into a fit.

Although there was still time to sick up all over his boots and really embarrass herself.

 _'Anxiety, no, don't do this to me. Not now. NOT. NOW.'_ Karmen silently begged. Trying to focus on her breathing tremors had already begun to make their way down through her arms, and she was swallowing compulsively to wet her drying throat. Her stomach churned and fluttered menacingly.

The gargoyle stood impassively beside her. It wasn't helping her situation at all, and neither was he, although it gave her something to focus on.

He was.. tall. Her brain might be exaggerating from where she lay, the vertigo definitely wasn't helping, but the tent was large enough for even he to stand in comfortably. That also included his _horns_ that curved out from the sides of his temple and up at an angle. Frighteningly sharp-looking claws tipped the end of each of his fingers. His skin, a silvery grey – unlike any body paint she had seen and so _lifelike_ – was smooth and bare of any hair that Karmen could see. Nothing on his arms or chest or stomach except for a light sheen of sweat.

What did cover him were a few thick gold bracelets, two circling each of his strapping forearms, a pair of leather boots, loose fitting leggings that looked like they were stitched together with leftover fabric, and a belt-like thing that fit over his pants, and a sash. The sash was marked in red where it hung between his legs with the symbol of a striped diamond; the lines coming to overlap at an upward slant, left over right, straight down the middle.

Her stare focused on it with laser-like intensity, and with it she could feel the beginnings of a hysterical giggle bubbling up in the back of her throat.

If only she had her damn medication.

If only she could _ask_ him where they were. Or where she was, really. Because what she was coming up with, the  _only_ thing she was coming up with, made her groan as her head spun perilously.

_'I made it worse, WHY did I do that?!'_

Karmen was saved from over-thinking and hyperventilating right into a panic attack by another body entering the tent. It was human male - or looked like it, she didn't know anymore - who reacted immediately to seeing her up and awake.

The man's mouth formed a perfect 'o' of surprise before smiling and attempting to converse with her.

The structure was similar but there wasn't a single term she recognized. It was like that documentary she had seen not that long ago. Linguists took a made-up dialect that paralleled the beats and patterns of the English language and showed how it could sound coming from the perspective of someone who was not a native speaker.

For once being able to talk with her hands wasn't something that was a distraction during conversations. Charades? Piece of cake.

Wincing from where she lay, Karmen mimed to the man that she didn't understand what he was saying; gesturing to her ears, and her head and giving it another sad shake.

'I can't understand you.'

Bless his heart, at least he tried. Not like the gargoyle. Bedside manner of cement wall, that one.

He pressed his lips together thoughtfully, then turned and spoke to the horned man in calm, questioning tones. Astonishingly enough the horned man spoke right back in a deep, rumbling baritone that made her ears burn and skin tingle. She still didn't understand a damn thing they said. Hell, what they were saying now wasn't even close to the _first_ language that the new guy spoke. Actually now that she thought about it... It was strangely familiar to her. Like hearing it in some far off dream.

That, however, was besides the point.

She was _fucked._

Until, that is, a short term caught her attention. One said multiple times while mister tall, dark, and glowering looked pointedly in her direction. Then flat out pointed in her direction.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

 _Well, shit._ As she once heard someone so eloquently put it.

 _'No. That doesn't make any_ sense. _'_   Her stomach rose up to meet her. She sat up, or tried to as much as she could, pushing herself up off the bed roll while holding the blanket around her like a shield. _'It doesn't wash - it DOESN'T!'_ Her body was flooded again with sheer, heart-stopping dread. She couldn't _breathe_ like she wanted to, gulping down air like a beached fish. Any other day she would've put her head between her knees, riding it out as per usual, if it wasn't for everything feeling so goddamn tight and throbbing under the wrappings.

Any other day she would've laughed at that joke.

Immediately the newcomer turned away from his conversation and began fussing over her after plopping his bag upon the small table that lay across from her bedside. It was the only other 'large' piece of furniture in the tent besides her cot, and strewn with bandages, cloths, and assorted bottles filled with colored liquid she couldn't even begin naming.

A gentle hand, small but sturdy with calluses, very, very lightly rubbed the center of her back. The man made soft hushing noises under his breath too and, little by little, by matching the pace of her breathing with his she was able to calm herself once more.

That hand was familiar, and it bothered her that she couldn't place it.

 _'He's a... doctor? A healer?'_ She noted that he could have been mistaken for plain, wearing a sleeveless, off-white tunic and pants – no jeans or a t-shirt anywhere in sight – if not for the blonde-nearly-white hair that seemed to float in the slight breeze from the open tent flap as strands of dandelion fluff.

In fact the hair so completely took her attention away from what was going on, in a strange, mesmerizing sort of way, that she didn't even notice when he began gently and nonchalantly slipping the blanket off her until she felt a breeze along her collarbone.

Along with the tops of her breasts.

She sobered up very quickly.

"WHOA! HEY!" Karmen swiped the cover back from him, a furious blush blooming on her cheeks. "Watch it, Doc! Shit – _ow-!_ "

He tutted and leaned in again, only this time he made sure that she knew what was going on by pointing at the medical supplies that were surely for no one else _but_ her. He waited until she nodded slowly in understanding.

She sighed with a shudder, letting out the breath she had been holding in.

And then, like ripping off a band-aid of modesty, he yanked the blanket away. As if performing the tablecloth trick for a live studio audience.

Karmen squawked, floundering to cover herself with her hands, and he only gave her a good-natured chuckle in return. It seemed he, like most of those working in the field of medicine, was not put out in any way by the state of her near-nakedness. 

 _'As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, I have made her dignity DISAPPEAR!'_ She hissed as a few pillows, pulled from the floor, were then stacked behind her back. The man patted her shoulder and she leaned against them gingerly. This.. she could work with. At least she wasn't laying down anymore, although her back still ached in places she didn't even remember having. The bed roll she sat on wasn't even close to a mattress, so the pillows made a comfortable edition.

She'd make due. Later. When she could actually stand on her own two feet and tweak things to her liking.

If she was even going to stay in this tent for that long. Hopefully she could find out where she was, not to mention what happened, and vamoose before anyone got too worried.

The healer tended to her wounds with an easy-going skill. Peeling away her old bandages one at a time and checking on the progress of her wounds. Some of which, until that moment, she didn't realize just how bad they were.

The few superficial scrapes and cuts that were found weren't notable, at least by her standards. Growing up she was used to hiking and throwing herself into the woods with reckless abandon. Injuries were more or less a common enough occurrence. By the tender age of ten she learned how to apply first aid without parental assistance.

Which was why she didn't even notice the raised, rug burn-like scabs that dotted her flesh and palms at first. She couldn't _see_ them through the expansive landscape of contusions.

Karmen gawked, horrified, her mouth falling open with shock as she caught sight of the mottling sickly bruises speckled _everywhere_. There was barely any of her flesh left untouched as they marked her legs and arms and covered her abdomen and chest as well with a greenish-yellow tinge. The deepest ones at a purple-green that she noticed along her side and one curling around the top of her right shoulder. It made her wonder, with nauseating realization, what her face looked like if her body was in such a state. That dull ache on the back and side of her head _throbbed_ , a grim reminder they were still there lurking under the bandage.

 _'Deep tissue injuries. Holy shit..'_ She was _covered_ in the stuff, no wonder it hurt to even bend over. The fact she could even move was a goddamn feat! Did she have any broken bones? Fractures? If she did then were they healing properly? A lot of it had already started healing if the yellow spots were of any indication so-

How long had it been like this? _How long?_

The man caught her eye, recognizing that this was her first time ever seeing anything like this – on her – and how it _frightened_ her. He smiled. It was still thick with honeyed kindness and sympathy. Laying his hand on her left shoulder again he gave her a reassuring pat.

'Don't worry. It'll all be alright.' The healer seemed to say.

Karmen bit her lip. Blinking to hold back grateful tears, she gave him a shaky nod. The man gave her something familiar and _safe_ to hold onto so as not to lose herself again in the void of panic. _'Which is GREAT. I'm a little sick of looking like I'm going to fall to pieces at any given second..'_ Karmen thought with halfhearted self-loathing, wincing as he pulled off the last bandages from her neck and head.

Gently, his fingers ran over the wounds that lay under it and, nodding and murmuring to himself satisfactorily, he tossed the strips of cloth with the others in the dirty pile at the edge of her bed roll.

_Was it her imagination or did he touch something long and hard and PAINFUL on her forehead? Something that disappeared into her hairline?_

A shadow suddenly blocked the sun coming in from the flap, startling her from her inner thoughts.

It was the gargoyle from before and in his hands was a tray.  On it sat a bowl of water with fresh rags, another bowl that looked to be some kind of porridge, and a clay jug. Her healer thanked him – not that she was going to _acknowledge_ that he said that word, for the sake of her sanity – and put the bowl of food in her lap, miming 'eating' and 'slowly' to her with a hopeful look.

He was hopeful that she was hungry? The realization took a minute and sunk in, as did her stomach.

She was used to losing time. Bad habit of falling ill and sleeping for nearly _ages_ afterwards, but this..

When was the last time she had food? They were giving her – she cast a quick glance into the bowl and blinked – gruel? That meant that it was probably the _only_ thing she could stomach, besides water. Anything more and-

No. No more morbid thinking.

The resident doctor cleared her to eat and dammit she was going to do it. She was _starving_. Any minute now her stomach was going to start eating away at itself.

Her big, grey friend on the other hand.. _'I didn't even notice him leave. When did he..? Hoo… pretty sneaky for a big guy.'_ She watched the gargoyle warily before inclining her head with appreciation and wincing. The fact that she didn't scream and try to cover her shame a second time made clear just how far into her current state of shock and disbelief she was. Being that even the smallest of thoughts about it was _too much for her to handle_ and was now having her existing solely on auto-pilot.

In other words; nonchalant, suspicious, and mild.

What's one other person to be naked in front of anyway? If anything the taller man seemed wholly uninterested in any of the skin she was showing.

"Th-thanks... "

_"Mashev."_

She blinked.

He _speaks!_

"Wh.... What?"

Grumbling, the giant pointed at the bowl in her lap with a talon and repeated himself in a tone that all but stated, with no if's, and's, or but's, that he was not going to repeat himself a third time. " _Mashev._ "

 "Oh, uh. Food? Food, yes. Thank you." Karmen nodded again and took up the wooden spoon in hand. There was no reason to be rude.

The healer generously allowed her to shakily lift a few spoonfuls of mashev into her famished gullet. Meanwhile, he soaked the rag in the water basin given to him and thoroughly, and soothingly, washed her wounds; starting with her legs and working up. She moved when he told her to, so to speak, without complaint. Only grunting a few times at the pain in her side and blushing when he started on her upper half. It was times like these she was glad she wasn't inherently ticklish. All she had to do was look away from what he was cleaning and _touching_ , and concentrate on the light forming pictures on the tent canvass next to her.

Easier said than done. It wasn't like she had ever had a sponge bath before.

Before long all she could think of was how good the water felt on her skin, so utterly refreshing in the warm air of the tent. Watching a dappling of shadows and broken light dance off the tent wall like a fantastical shadow play.

And the gruel wasn't that bad actually.

She licked her lips and took another weak mouthful. A little more watery than she was used to, interesting taste, but filling.

 _'I feel like Mary Lennox. Used to not eating a whole lot daily then getting what tastes like.. lembas bread porridge. With.. cinnamon?'_   That lembas bread comment was on point. It wasn't before long that Karmen let out a stuffed groan. Her stomach, apparently not yet used to any large amount of food, protested against her next bite and she wound up relinquishing the rest of bowl to her healer friend. A thankful murmur ghosting along under her breath.

Best not to stuff herself, no point in throwing it all back up again.

In the time that she used to eat the healer had already finished with her cleanse and had started to apply fresh, new bandages; but not before covering the bruises and healing cuts with a thick, green paste that looked like the spawn of the Blob that ate everyone.

Those teeny tiny cuts already well scabbed over didn't need the bindings any longer so he moved on, letting them air out for the time being. But that stuff he used..

 _'A poultice.'_ She said to herself wonderingly, gagging and coughing. A _legit_ _healing_ poultice, of all things, and a potent one from the way it tingled pleasantly under the bandages. The stench was still _awful_.. and familiar! _'Like fresh paint and herbs. Woof.'_

Dazed, Karmen felt like she had been clipped by a passing bus.

Oh! _That's_ what made her dressings smell so repugnant before. They already had her wearing it before and, looking at the state of the wounds, it'd worked marvelously at healing her right up.

It surprised her that while the effect wasn't immediate the ache from before that she tried to adjust to seemed to lessen. Numbed. Like the feeling right when you realize that your limb fell asleep when you weren't looking, but seconds before the pins-and-needles truly kicked in. Just to the point where a hiss of pain, or a curse on the tip of her tongue, no longer came with every movement.

It was duller now. Pleasant, and more manageable, much to her relief.

It had seemed like an age that it took for her to be cared for and given needed sustenance, but Karmen felt worlds better now than when she first regained consciousness. Her insides no longer clenched together painfully like a twisted ball of tin foil for food. She had been given new bed coverings as well after the changing of her dressings since the others were wet and dirty.

She was about to lay down. She was so _tired_ at this point and had no energy to worry anymore about anything, when the healer stopped her and drew one more thing from his bag and handed to her.

Karmen saw what it was and nearly hugged him.

Who was she kidding? She did. Almost bowling the two of them over onto the floor before taking it reverently.

 _'Clothes! I thought I was going to have to go without while looking like something out of the Pharaoh's Curse, but NOT TODAY!'_ Her joyous whooping echoed in her thoughts as she ran her fingers over the fabric.

It was a shift - a _dress,_ she thought simply at the sight of it coming just above her knees - similar to his attire; off-white, light, and had the feel of old cotton. It was.. nice. Not too scratchy, the sleeves were ridiculously baggy, but it comfortable enough considering she would have to go without underwear; that being the only article missing from the ensemble.

 _'We can deal,'_ Karmen thought to herself comfortingly. _'Sure, no pants. No underwear either, but it covers everything. Wait... isn't a shift TECHNICALLY underwear?_ _Oh..... well..'_ It was a sobering realization, one that she quickly shook off considering her circumstances. _'_ _Not about to look a gift horse in the mouth! No sir!'  
_

In the end the grooming and good manners turned instinct, hammered into her by her parents and grandparents, won out over the years of developed paranoia. Making the split second decision, she placed her hand on her chest.

"Karmen."

The man looked up and she repeated her name with careful enunciation. Then pointed at him with a questioning gaze. His mouth made another 'o' of revelation before he mirrored her smile and stance, his hair bobbing. "Quinn."

There was a beat, and Karmen stared.

From the healer with the incredible hair – _Quinn, it's **Quinn**_ – to the wall of silvery-grey flesh and horns that observed everything from his position at the tent door.

Quinn.

And a _Qunari_.

It was in that very second that she could feel the last wall of her hastily erected denial toppling away in wave after wave of growing hysteria. Something so small, so inconsequential, and yet it was finally what broke her façade, for all her posturing and resistance. Karmen's shoulders hunched together and shook as a low, unrestrained titter bubbled up from her broken body. It built in volume and strength and before she knew it she bent inward, bursting with peals of laughter. Hilarity mixed with the bitter reality she found herself in.

Of course that was his name.

What absolutely rotten luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of those wondering, "Why didn't the Qunari have the Rising Tide symbol painted on his chest? THAT is what Karmen should've noticed first, right? The bloody big, GLARING red mark? Isn't that what all of the Antaam look like?" 
> 
> Remember, the entire storyline of DA2 is being retold to Cassandra by _Varric Tethras_. There are things that make sense, because of evidence later that it happened in the Inquisition canon, and then there are things that don't, like an army, who was sent to find their tome on a diplomatic mission, looking savage the whole time staying in the city. Marked up in red, red for _death_ and destruction, red like a _target_ for Petrice's plots – and later the focus of Kirkwall instead of Hawke – so you KNOW that at some point there is going to be shit that goes down and it's only a matter of time.
> 
> Bravo Ser Wordsmith, for some epic foreshadowing and creative licensing.
> 
> There are going to be a few changes from what Varric told Cass. Things that were not included in the Tale of the Champion/DA2 because he didn't know how to put it in, that didn't mesh with the "plot", or that he didn't have any knowledge of because it's not _his_ story. 
> 
> I won't reveal all of the changes just yet but hopefully they fit well enough that I'm satisfied and I don't have to keep continuously editing like the anal retentive person I am. 
> 
> I'm trying to get down all of the stuff I think didn't fit, the questions unanswered, and I think I'm doing well, so I would love to hear from you guys how well it flows!
> 
>    
> I'll be out this weekend and next week due to a beach trip. I know, the coincidence is pretty funny.
> 
>    
>  _I'm going on an adventure!_


	4. A Drop In The Bucket

What a perfect time to be thankful that Quinn already put the poultice on otherwise laughing like this would've hurt like a such a bitch.

Every last single fuck that Karmen tried to rationalize went flying right out the proverbial window. There wasn't a single place to stick her head in the sand now.

The truth was here, it was ugly, and it wasn't pulling any punches.

 _'This is not good. Definitely not good at all.'_ Oh, of course. The world was falling apart and here she was, quoting a movie about some poor kid getting tossed willy-nilly into the world of fiction.

On point, Richardson.

"Quinn," A hiccup caught in her throat as she wiped the line of tears away from one cheek. She pointed at the ground and shrugged, laying her palms up beside her questioningly.

'Where am I?'

Quinn, just as dumbstruck by her giggle fit as the big guy – the _Qunari_ , the one with _real fucking horns_ , the one with the _huge fucking great sword_ on his back, how did she miss seeing the hilt _RIGHT THERE_ – blinked himself back to the present. He replied simply by pointing out the door and saying the word she had been dreading to hear all this time.

"Kirkwall."

And there it was.

She mouthed the word after him mechanically. As she did, she could feel her mind begin to disintegrate. Floating away like twinkling dust motes in the wake of a jackrabbit speeding off into a still, desert night. Her mind raced with information. Pictures and faces from faint memories all ablur as they flashed back and forth in front of her eyes like a black and white horror movie.

Quinn and a Qunari.

The-compound-by-the-docks.

Thedas' Free Marches.

_And a partridge in a pear tree._

In hindsight she was glad that the very thought of being stuck in this toxic city resulted in laughing herself stupid with shock. It was a lot better than the crying that would surely rear its ugly face later.

 

 

Once Quinn left, after making sure she drank the water he brought for her, the Qunari returned to his post outside her door, Karmen resumed the position on the cot. Halfway onto her side in an attempt to avoid most of the wounds and curled with arms crossed on her chest. She had pushed the blanket behind her, seeing as how there wasn't a proper wall to lean against and any more covering would have her sweating through the only piece of clothing she'd been given.

She had, for all intents and purposes, laid down to be comfortable as possible while she pieced together what little recall she had. Instead the next thing she knew she blinked awake to darkness.

Outside, a light flickered just beyond her reach.

Groggily, she yawned and turned over on the bed. Landing on trembling legs she limped for the dimly lit crack.

_'Grandma left the hall light on again? Ugh, mom's going to be furious. 'Electric bill,' this. 'Stop making me do everything in this house,' that. The woman is not ever happy if she doesn't let out her frustration on someone.'_

She pushed open the bedroom door and in that moment shattered the illusion of reality that rode upon the coattails of Morpheus. That peaceful place between the hazy, morning cloud that hung in the corners of foggy eyes and actual awareness.

A monstrous face illuminated by torchlight stared at her.

She knew that face.

Karmen gasped sharply. Blood roared in her ears.

 _She forgot_.

_How could she have forgotten?_

The world tipped on its axis, wrenching the ground out from under her feet. She grasped blindly and met only air. Strangler vine memories of that afternoon constricted around her heart as the hysteria grew, staggering backwards unable find purchase where she stood.

There was a noise like a growl of displeasure from somewhere above her.

She did not hear it.

A hand, strong, stronger than she was now, with claws that stuck to her shirt like her cat's always had, grasped her by the uninjured shoulder and steered her back through the opening of the tent. It made her sit down, hard, upon her cot. The impact didn't jar her in the least.

Fat, hot tears streamed from her eyes uncontrollably and into her lap as she clenched her teeth tight. Though no matter how much she tried to hold it back her efforts were useless as the low, sobbing keen forced its way up and out of her throat.

Pressing her face into the blanket, her breath hitched in her chest, and she _wailed_. The noise smothered as she coiled in the mess of cloth and garments. Her body heaving with great, gasping sobs as everything came flooding up at once.

In the back of her mind the image of Quinn fussing over her earlier appeared. He.. was going to be upset? Probably hurting herself like this but she couldn't bring herself to care. Not at all.

Stranded, alienated. _Alone._ That feeling echoed deeper in her chest than any wound in her flesh dared reach. Worlds away from everything held dear with only faint echoes to serve as reminders of things lost.

Her stomach lurched and she bawled harder.

 _Why?_ She cried, as her gasps became wetter, more labored, and her nose ran. _WHY?!_ She couldn’t remember the how, and damned if she knew the when. She tried and tried earlier to no avail, and felt so lost, so turned around that her mind whited out in the avalanche of grief.

_'Go to sleep. Go to **sleep**. You'll wake up in the morning. You'll wake up and everything will be fine – **fine**. **Everything – will – be – fine.** '_

Morning came, and sleep, sadly, did not.

Still, she remained.

This time as she watched the sunrise from the floor of the canvass entrance, her legs crossed together and altogether ignoring the peanut gallery, did she feel grounded. The rays of the cool morning's light brushed against the dried tears on her face as it peaked over the high walls of the conclave, lighting up the normally sandy colored buildings a brilliant gold. Imposing, _grand_. Not at all unlike prison walls closing in. Even as she could feel the vestiges of her hysterics ebbing away, forcing what remained back, did a sobering weight of understanding settle on her shoulders.

There was smell, now that she was outside. A smell, reminding her of New York City alleyways under the unrelenting scorch of late July, that wasn't as noticeable in the cool of dawns and dusks, but had every potential to leave an unpleasant and lasting reek if the afternoon was hot. She had caught brief flashes of it throughout the day but now? _Woof._

Although the stink would fade as soon as she was used to it Karmen suddenly wished for the barrier of her tent. Paint peeling poultice fogging the air, coating the insides of her nose, along with the faintest cinnamon. Anything to block it out. That with the crosswinds of the ocean and what came down from the mountains and..

Definitely not a hallucination then, being here in fucking Kirkwall of all places. She couldn't even begin to imagine the trials and tribulations that she'd have to deal with in this place.

A wrinkle developed in the middle of her furrowed brow and her doe-brown eyes rolled back from sheer exasperation. It stabbed dead-center between them like a knife of _STUPID_ and _AGH WHY_.

That was wrong, and Karmen pinched the bridge of her nose wearily. She knew _exactly_ what kind of trials and tribulations were going to happen. When they were going to happen, who they were going to happen to, the listed bits anyway. At least those she knew about for sure.

The real trouble would be finding out which were going to affect her in the long run.

 

 

In the next few days that followed Karmen discovered, much to her chagrin, that there wasn't much she could do that wouldn't get the guard's notice after that rough first night. Talk about rapt attention, as if the Qunari didn't have a reputation before.

Then again she had never been under military watch either. That was very new, as well as disconcerting. So it wasn't at all surprising that following her epiphany that morning there was some.. friction. A few misunderstandings and disagreements. Mostly because of the whole 'I'm not going to talk to the dirty non-Qunari' act.

Maybe it was from being overwhelmed and distraught but she'd be lying if she said it didn't test the limits of patience she usually took pride in. Not allowing her temper to get away with her. Like after the fiasco with the toilet.

Especially after the fiasco with the toilet.

Thankfully Quinn seemed to have some kind of ingrained spidey-sense about irate Qunari and showed up just before things got too heated between her and her babysitter. Two seconds later and it would've been a guaranteed international incident.

Fun times with the American and the scariest bastards this side of Southern Thedas.

This was going so well.

Good news if anything. Quinn found that she wasn't always on the verge of panicking and pretty sociable. While she was careful enough not to step over the line with the one person willing to communicate, they "talked." Usually with her floundering around a simple way of asking questions that he might understand that mostly consisted of her asking about her wounds, or him testing her certain bits of her language.

As if making extra sure that she couldn't communicate in any other way.

He got points for being diligent. She appreciated it more than he knew. Though still weary she was able to get more information from Quinn just by miming alone, and her limited, or rather nonexistent, Thedosian vocabulary.

Trade? Kirkwallean maybe?

Or was it 'Common'? That's the term she heard thrown around pretty frequently.

All she knew for sure was that she could count on one or two words in French, maybe the same of Spanish. That'd get her the 'oh it's a _tourist_ , how precious' look in Orlais and Antiva, and then consequently robbed the shit out of in Antiva. With a great chance of being stabbed in the face or sold into slavery.

But if the language that Quinn tried to use before was local then she was screwed.

However, her efforts of eager communication were not in vain.

Finding out how badly she was hurt in the still unknown incident leading to this strange, and epically terrifying situation had taken priority the next day. From what she could discern from the jumbled hand signs the healer reported: three broken ribs, and a fractured skull, which would account for the tissue damage and throbbing. Everything else was lucky to be badly bruised.

There were some... other, more confusing signs that the healer tried to impart as well, but were soon lost in translation.

What was not lost she learned through small, first-hand observations. Simply, everything in the camp operated exactly like how she thought a military establishment would: on strict clockwork and routine.

Food and water came twice a day via Quinn. Compared to the amount of food she ate back home it was measly and, she suspected, possibly all they had. The water was.. dubious. Tasting brackish and overly warm, but mostly fresh. Every fiber in her screamed _UNCLEAAAN_ with the first mouthful and it was all she could do to choke it down. So it was sanitary, she hoped. Still it was _water_. She was luckier than many that lived there if she believed what the story told. Which was why even shuddering with the first few swallows there were absolutely no complaints. The mashev seemed to be a food staple here at the compound from the way Quinn and her security were familiar with it. At least for the force of the Antaam. Something which was wholly Qun they could easily make or acquire without having to deal with anyone out of Kirkwall.

The guardsman rotated out a few times a day, but only for an hour, or two at most, then came right back to his post. Karmen had been suspicious in the beginning. Wondering if he really stayed there unflinching day after day. She only got an answer when she did a double-take after waking up from her nap once and realizing someone new stood in his place. They had swapped while she slept.

Clever boys, waiting until she was out cold to switch it up.

She sat there watching for the next half hour until he came back. If they knew she was awake the unknown Qunari, and her own, spared no glance as the change of watch went off without a hitch.

Bandages were changed once a day at supper and to her complete astonishment were healing faster than she could've ever predicted. By day two – by _her_ account at least, and she knew full well how reliable that was – the lesser bruises and scrapes had vanished altogether while the deeper ones were going a ugly, soft green with healing. Legs were still a bit wobbly but it was leagues better than the wait back home, for sure.

But back to business.

That business being the trouble of adjusting and getting used to a human, and at the same time _not_ -human, face.

A bit of a shock at first, and she supposed that it would take some time to get used to it. After all it wasn't every day that people from her neck of the dimensional rift were built like steel tanks, with horns sprouting right from their heads. Nothing out of a book anyway.

It was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen.

He was still terrifying, in his own way, in the very _Qunari_ way, but it made her six kinds of giddy and awestruck to look upon something that was not like herself.

While Quinn had been introduced she'd gotten nothing out of the man that spent the last two days with her. What bothered her a bit more was not having a specific name to call him. It just wasn't done under the Qun. For the time being she would have to make due, in true Varric Tethras fashion. Meaning a good and proper nickname.

Not anything ridiculous either, with things like 'Horny', or 'McStabbers', or the ever-popular 'Hey, YOU.' After some careful consideration about the gentleman in front of her tent, Goliath it was.

Disney Afternoons, eat your heart out.

Taking into account that she, unlike him and the others like him, weren't able to use her nose to tell the Sten and the Ashaad and every other same-named man in the Gods-forsaken compound apart in conversations it was going to drive her to distraction to do anything but.

Her eye twitched and raised itself upwards in an exasperated roll.

Why did she have to remember that? Honestly with the way things were going there was going to have to be some verification of that rumor at some point..

Not with herself, God no.

Because that's all she needed on top of all this, right? Her keepers being able to tell if she was getting hot and bothered and... stuff...

Her mind trailed away as she caught sight of Goliath out of the corner of her eye.

Shoulders. A back, a very _nice_ back was in full view of most of the time. Um, _arms_. It was simply not at all possible to _not_ stare at the man, Karmen reasoned.

She was culturally isolated, not hormonally castrated.

She wasn't going to dwell on it. So, absolutely, not going to dwell on it. There were other things to think about! For example, this would be the first time in her short-lived existence she wasn't busied with something to pass the time. Usually by way of her laptop. A movie, music, a _book_ for fuck's sake. They did have those, but did she see one? Nope! Absolute zilch on any entertainment while she was as out-of-the-way as can be.

When Quinn would change out her wrappings she'd once again resort to making pictures out of the patterns in the tent as she lay prone and relaxed, then allow the rest of his visit for talk. Karmen knew that he could only stay for a certain allotted amount of time. When the healer wasn't around to interact she was bored silly. So she did what bored people normally did in this situation

Make a break for it.

Cabin fever was settling in fast and here she was still under house arrest. Only it was less 'house' and more 'arrest.' Just without the shackles.

It wasn't as if she wouldn't come back. There were about a hundred more of Goliath out there just as fast, deadly, and no-nonsense demeanor milling around about the enclave. None of which she had absolutely any intention of pissing off anytime soon.

She liked her melon right where it was.

But to be outside, even for just a little while.. easier said than done.

Try as she might, whether it be waiting until Goliath's back was turned and tip-toeing – _hobbling_ – out the front door, or sneaking out the back under the canvass itself, she couldn't get more than ten feet past her tent before getting caught.

Everything Karmen did he was ten steps ahead of. Usually scaring the bejeezus out of her by appearing behind her, or popping out in front from the other side of a wall like some allusion to the Dark Knight. Making her the poor stooge that couldn't get away.

" _Itwa._ " He'd say, right after picking her up and dumping her unceremoniously, but gently, or whatever they considered _gently_ , onto her cot.

Itwa, itwa, ITWA _._ Every single time that was his response. His only response.

Which, if she assumed correctly, meant 'sit.'

Like how someone would train a _dog._

Karmen would've found it hilarious if it wasn't directed at her. Except it was absolutely directed at her and he was doing it on purpose.

And it wasn't like there was anyone to shoot the breeze with to distract her from the mind-numbing boredom save for Quinn, who obviously had other responsibilities than talk to her. If she thought that Grumpy outside would give her the time of day for one sec-

Oh. _Oh._

She blinked in astonishment.

Why hadn't she thought of that sooner?

Karmen stealthily craned her head to see Goliath standing at attention on the other side of the canvass. The wheels in her head began to turn. Albeit cautious wheelie-turns, but they turned all the same. Wary of the dragon poking and dragon sized blow-up that this might cause instead of her intended outcome.

There would be only one shot at this. It was surely a gamble but it was either that or the silent treatment. She could only take so much.

As she turned her body back towards the tent Karmen bit her lip, at the same time tapping down a diabolical laugh threatening to escape. The snubbing was going to end. One way or another, it was going to end today.

 

 

"AWK-!"

Her butt, for the third time that day, met the sturdy cot. The warrior stood like a barricade barring her way. Once again apprehending her in the middle of an escape. Arms crossed and frowning, she still couldn't tell if he was amused or annoyed at her feeble attempts to leave the confines of her quarters.

Boy, was he about to get one hell of a surprise.

The word just barely left Goliath's lips when Karmen rose up on her feet once again, squaring her shoulders with bullheaded determination. Jutting her chin out she drew herself up, looked at the Qunari with every ounce of defiance and, with _no_ regard for her personal well-being, shot back with all her might.

" **EET-WAY!** "

Utter silence fell upon the tent. For several moments no one moved, not an inch.

A camera.

Her soul, virgin sacrifices, hell _blood magic_ to summon a demon from the Fade for just one working camera. What she wouldn't give to capture the look on Goliath's face reacting to her suddenly and heavily stressing the Qunlat with her Tidewater accent, until it was a very nasal Deep Southern.

It was like someone jumped out of a barrel of maraas-lok right in front of him. In full, fabulous Carnaval ensemble. With glitter and confetti spraying in every possible direction.

_Absolutely priceless._

She had to bite the side of her tongue to keep herself from grinning like an idiot at the baffled and _perturbed_ expressions that flashed across his usually stony face. Mere twitches away from a fully fledged look.

Still, she stood. Unmoving and unfaltering under the penetrating gaze of the Qunari.

He stared.

And stared.

And stared, until finally Goliath leaned down towards her. Bending almost in half just to reach the height of her eyes. So close that, if she even _dared_ , she could reach out and tug at the white braids that framed the sides of his face.

She held her breath as his stark, yellow eyes watched her like a hawk.

Then, with a low, gravelly voice, he repeated that oh-so familiar phrase. This time, however, he was not scolding her. The syllables were sounded out slowly and carefully, and then he waited.

All she could do was look back slack-jawed and incredulous, before her success smacked her upside the head.

 _'Fucking KNEW it! Free language lessons, WOOHOO!'_ Bless their big, perfectionist hearts, she had a hunch the Qunari – ANY proper Qunari – couldn't bear to hear his own language butchered so badly. Especially by a _bas_ such as her.

Maybe this wasn't going to go pear-shaped after all.

"It-wah."

" _Itwa._ "

"I.. It..wa _?_ "

" _Araanka. **Itwa**._ " The first one _had_ to mean 'again.' That, and of course ' _sit._ '

"Itwa?"

He nodded in understanding. There was no smile, only silent satisfaction.

She knew Sten from the first game well enough to understand Qunari ran on two modes: stoic and various levels of disgruntled, ranging from _Grr_ to _I will rip out your teeth and use them to decorate my sword._ Smiles? Those alone were like catching the green flash at the arse end of the seas as they fell off the edge into infinity.

She had better chance of running into a dragon, a REAL CHANCE of one, than making this poor blighter express even the slightest bit of elation or levity.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

 _'Thank the Maker! Or Hell, or is it the Void, THANK MYTHAL! I know she's around at least. Huh.. wonder if she hears stuff like that. 'By Mythal's bitchin' hooker boots', I love it!'_   No longer able to contain her glee she let out a loud, happy whoop. Her fists shooting above her head in celebration.

She looked around the tent in an eager frenzy, her grin bright enough to reflect the sun and then some, then pointed to the large weapon which hung on his back.

Like she was going to stop the lesson after just _one_ word.

"'Sword'?"

" _Valo-kas._ "

"Vaahlow-kas.."

 

 

The urge to choke him with his own braids was near breaking point, only intensifying the regret of ever goading him into it. Why didn't she stop after one word?

Because hindsight's a merciless bitch.

It had only been _two days_ since she poked the Karashok into teaching her his language. Yes indeedy, that was his role under the Qun. He'd be lax in his duties not to have her know it, even if she had a habit of calling him something else entirely.

Usually to his face while he was trying to correct her. And laughing.

Never did Karmen think she'd see one of these stone-skinned giants flush with vexation. Puce was definitely not his color.

At first she was relieved. Delighted! Finally, a way to communicate. A way to find out what happened to her. After all it wasn't every day you got an opportunity such as this, learning an entirely new language on the fly.

Before she realized what was happening there wasn't a single moment where Goliath wasn't in her tent trying to cram word after word down her throat. Suddenly everything was a lesson. Like during dinner that very same night. He hadn't allowed her to eat until she could identify and recall everything she was to eat.

Gruel was _mashev_.

Water was _lokk_.

There was also a strange fruit that looked like a tangerine but was a strange green color. Goliath called it _eenam._ It was the tastiest thing she had since waking. Although a little smaller, and much less supermarket-superfresh in its appearance than she was used to, one bite and she was almost drooling from the tangy-tart taste. Color her astonished that she was even allowed to have fruit in the first place. Honestly, she was pretty sure the only reason she received one was to test her. The treat for getting it right being the fruit itself.

It _would_ be something that horned, slave-driving, grammar school teacher would do.

With a tick in her eyebrow Karmen repeated it all dutifully back to him until he was satisfied. And then, once his back was turned, made a face and stuck her tongue at him like a vindictive four year-old.

Shielded behind that floofy mop of hair Quinn had sniggered like a naughty schoolboy. It shook with his silent laughter like milkweed puffs dancing upon the wind.

For a moment she thought that she was finally free to eat.

Then he held the food about to present to her over her head, and made her identify the bowl, the spoon, the knife, the jug, the bandages-

The only logical answer, of course, was _yelling_ the correct phrases right back while threatening him with the full jug that she shook over her head. Quinn howled with laughter beside her, making no move to stop them as she and Goliath stood each other down like a pair of lions over a piece of meat.

The Karashok eventually relinquished her food but not before giving her the tiniest of smug smirks at the outburst. He got what he wanted after all.

For this reason, knowing what that sense of dread was almost like an alarm for any of the Karashok's pop quizzes. An alarm to fight. To be on her toes for whatever he threw at her.

It was easier to get over stress if she could shove his nose in her accomplishments.

Aggravating as it was, and really it was, she did always love a good challenge.

Heat of the Kirkwallean sun that licked at her ankles through most of the afternoon ebbed and faded into the coolness of the evening. The gang gathered in her tent for that night's dinner shift.

Quinn had brought his own meal, as he had that morning and the night before, and Goliath, to her complete surprise, had no issue indulging himself in his own dinner. A short lived sight. The Qunari's food tended to disappear quickly when he ate with them, then it was right back to lessons if that was his choice.

Tonight, however, was oddly absent of them. Not that she was complaining. This time she had no intention of snarfing down her supper and was taking it nice and slow.

"You know... Not that I don't appreciate the effort but do you know what the best part is 'bout the language barrier? Swearing. Without a doubt the best thing about language in general." Karmen commented blandly after swallowing a mouthful of _eenam_ , the second half that she had saved from the night before. Kept in a spare cloth on the table in lieu of any Ziploc bag. "I could say 'fuck your mother, you saggy tit' and you wouldn't even know."

Quinn raised his eyebrows and chuckled around his spoon with a shake of his head, her tone being the only indication he knew she was teasing.

Goliath stayed quiet. As per usual he took to watching her out of the corner of his eye with only partial interest.

"Leave it to the big guy to be the buzzkill.. Oh hey, Quinn!" The man turned at his name. She waved her now bare arms at him, pointing to her once bandaged head. "Thank you! Er, _ebasshra_ Quinn." A phrase that the Karashok had taught her. Closest guess being something like 'my thanks' or 'you have my gratitude.'

Qunlat was.. ridiculously complicated. New and vast and lots of simple things that waxed eloquent. Words didn't have gender, for which she was eternally grateful. She heard enough complaints about Spanish and German from her friends in high school to know that could complicated things just a wee bit; even learning Japanese gave her some experience. Never the less Karmen made sure she had the essential of Qunari Manners 101 down pat: how to say yes, no, thank you, and apologize.

Sometimes profusely.

When the very last of the bandages had come free she had been overjoyed, jumping and stretching where she once could not. She had given pause the moment her questing fingers found the thick, slightly jagged scar half in and half out of her hairline, as she had always felt Quinn do before.

All those times before where her mother had warned her and it took until _now_ that she cracked her head wide open. Lovely.

Karmen sighed, reminiscent. "Great. All I need is some villainous wizard to contend with and I'm all set to be The Girl Who Lived.. _It's not like I'm going to have a lack of maleficar in this city or anything.._ " She didn't look up from scraping the nearly empty bowl despondently with her spoon.

Little bits of her language didn’t quite draw the gaze it did within the first few days, it was the tone that seemed to catch their attention. Perhaps her boys were unused to people snarking freely in front of the more intimidating species and getting away with it.

 _Her_ boys. A bit of bewildered blinking at that particular thought.

She quietly hummed to herself, staring into the bottom of the wooden bowl with a pensive air. What was she supposed to call the only people she had contact with for nearly a week now? It was no secret she was becoming attached to them, even Goliath for whatever it was worth. There was more there than she could see, but for now..

With that thought in mind, it warming a small spot in her chest, she put her bowl off to the side to stretch out the crick that had formed in her neck.

It was the mountain of red that caught her eye as the flap was pushed aside and another Qunari entered the tent. Along with two other fellows that kept to the door.

At first her brain didn't catch up to what she was seeing. Her arms came down from where they were extended in a daze. The air sucked right out of her lungs in a terrifying vacuum as her eyes focused on the silver mass that seated itself down across from her easily as you please.

It was the Arishok.

The _Ari-flippin-shok_.

All points and edges and Seheron-scarred, and _paulrdons_. A walking bulwark of indomitable, heart-stopping force just by _looking_ at you. Hand-picked to lead the Antaam, the strong arm of the Qunari. The Mad Ox of Tevinter.

He was here. In her tent. Sitting, his hands folded in front of him, on the bench across from her bedroll, not at all unlike how she remembered how he sat atop his throne. And how did she go about preparing for this unexpected meeting?

By wearing naught but her billowy sleeved underwear – shift – _thing_.

 _'Mythal, do you hate me? What did I do to deserve your ire, woman?!'_ Swept up in a blinding fear her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Whatever anxiety she had experienced in the few days prior was nothing compared to this. It was all she could do not to sway.

The sudden feeling of _realization_ like she got clipped upside the head by a maul.

Fuck, FUCK! Why didn't she see it before?

The answer came simply: because she was still recovering from splitting her head open, that's why.

Biding their time they had made her comfortable, so much so that she forgot why the Qunari were so damn dangerous. Comfortable enough to give them her name. To bypass her anxiety and reach out and communicate out of the desperation of solitude. Given her food, water, shelter, and people to talk to and she'd opened right up like the sheltered idiot she was. And right into their hands. All the while their noose was tightening further around her throat like a hunter's snare until it was damn too late to do anything.

They probably knew that they were dealing with an unknown element and didn't want to wait too long on getting what information they needed out of her. Determine whether or not she was a viable threat to them and their mission.

After all nothing would come between it and them. They'd make sure of it.

Reeling she shakily pulled the bottom hem of the shirt towards her knees as far as it could go. Her eyes didn't leave him, not for one measly second. Not to look at Quinn, not Goliath, to see their reactions. Not that she could bring herself to, the rotten _bastards._ She could taste bile in her mouth as the overwhelming pressure of his presence filled the tent.

The man was massive. Both in size and in essence, and he commanded every inch of it.

Granted, the only other Qunari warrior that she had seen within the past few days was her very special guard. On day one she had seen the clear differences.

How the developers had used the same template for all the Antaam occupying Kirkwall – the horns, the clothes, the hair, the vitaar, practically everything – in comparison to someone right in front of her nose. The clothing was correct in being consistent with what she was familiar with between Goliath and those Qunari featured in the second game but there was a _newness_ that brought a great many questions to mind. The two newcomers as well favored this design.

None of that applied to the force of nature sitting a few feet away. It was literally as if the Arishok had been pulled right off the screen itself, barring some faint scars that crisscrossed his body not seen before. With the armor of his station, and arching horns adorned with thick, gold bands that just barely missed scraping the top of the tent if he stood, the Arishok made the Karashok look deflated in comparison. Even if they stood at similar heights he had resembled nothing like Goliath when it came to looks. Where Goliath had been missing the tell-tale sign of the Antaam the Arishok's appearance was more of a familiar sight. The angrily glaring sigil of the Qun lay painted in wide swaths across his chest.

His very wide and glorious chest.

 _'Shit, looking at his chest.'_ No, she wasn't looking. She was _ogling_ very blatantly. _'I'm gonna die.. and he's hot. FUCK! I'm gonna throw up—noNO **NO!** DO **NOT** THROW UP ON THE ARISHOK! Dammit woman LOOK AT HIS FACE!'_

Yes, his face. Karmen was treated to the unnerving sight of blackened sclera and gold eyes – worse than Goliath's, SO MUCH WORSE – that were reminiscent of going at the wacky eye color of the character customization page. It was normal on him, sure, but to see them up close made her mouth run dry as the Western Approach.

They reminded her of the eyes of a massive tiger. Alert. Hypnotizing. _Paralyzing._ Something she'd imagine catching hold of her in the dead of night on a hollow battlefield. Claws flashing in the dark. Teeth like swords at her throat.

One wrong move and she'd know death before she could see it.

_'Focus, Karmen! Remember those lessons you had? NOW would be the time to use them!'_

" _Sh-shanedan_..?" She stumbled over uncertainly.

A deep rumble rolled like thunder and velvet from his mouth. " _Shanedan, bas._ "

Karmen resisted the urge to drag her hands down her face and swear. Or cry. She settled for biting her tongue.

This was going to be _fantastic_.

Interrogated by the Arishok. Coherent enough now to answer questions and cornered with whatever she willingly gave to Quinn who presented it to the big cheese himself. What a great way to ensure that she wouldn't try and lie.

Point to them. It was working.

" _Basra_ ," Her eyes snapped up from the floor they had unconsciously lowered to and her stomach rolled turbulent white water. She couldn't afford to be distracted. Not when he already had a leg up on her.

She could be angry at the backstabbing later. If she lived long enough to see a later.

" _Asal-eb Arishok_." The behemoth looked down his nose to where she sat frozen on the cot. " _Arit na_ _kaari-eb_."

She only understood very little of the last bit – the first part covered in lesson one just like her old days of introductory classes, 'I am the Arishok', he was speaking to her like a child and she was _glad_ for it – but as far as she could tell he was trying to see if she knew him. Knew of him.

It wasn't as if Goliath had given her a spreadsheet of all of the Antaam positions, of the rest of the Triumvirate – boy would that be so helpful – and all of the roles below the big three; but know him?

Karmen bit her tongue again or risk laughing aloud at his face.

 _'Buddy, the shit I know about you would starch your horns like Pippi Longstocking's pigtails.'_ Which now that she thought about would look a lot like everyone's favorite Ben-Hassrath-turned-Mercenary. _'Human Bull with pigtails. And red hair. Freckles. Fucking hell, that's an image..'_ Karmen swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded her head minutely, pinched her fingers to where just the teensiest space was left between them.

'Yes, but only a tiny bit.'

Satisfied was the only word used to describe the rumble that exited his chest. Not _pleased_ , but satisfied. That she could communicate? That she wasn't willing to be a pain in the ass like all of the non-Qunari he's come across?

Though, for the life of her, she _really_ wished he would make another expression. It was making him look even more-

No.

 _No._ Down girl.

This was an _interrogation_. This Megatron embodiment of the Qun was close enough to grab her by her skinny neck and _squeeze_ , very easily, until her head popped off like the top of a toothpaste tube and information spilled forth. Or her insides.

Both would probably make him quite the happy camper.

That being said, this was not the time to make goddamn _goo-goo eyes at him!_

 _'What was that I read about heightened stress levels boosting certain kinds of attraction-?'_ There was a distinct pop in her spine as it straightened, interrupting her thoughts mid-babble. The Arishok was making that _we are wholly unamused_ face again. All flared nostrils and pursed lips. One not unlike what her mother told her the nuns at her old Catholic school patented on the first day, that could crack stained glass and sneering veneer at forty paces. It made that behemoth of a weapon he carried on his back pale in comparison to the skill he wielded that look.

She grumbled ruefully, something along the lines of, _"Well, I wanted another expression,"_ under her breath, before one of the nameless aides stepped forward. From his side he produced a scroll of weathered paper and handed it to the Arishok.

Laid out before her on the bench like heavy judgment was a map. Eager brown eyes scanned the intricately detailed parchment with names that stuck out like neon signs.

 _'This skill and detail it – it's amazing! How long did it take them to make something like this by hand?'_ She mouth dropped open and she drank it in. Marveling over the topography of ink that made up known Thedas as she ran over it with the pads of her fingers. The names were in Qunlat, clearly made for their use only, but it was very obvious which country was which by its location.

And the parchment! Shit, it was _actual_ parchment! The aromatic authenticity wafted up from the heavy paper and sent nostalgic chills through her.

Putting that fact aside she made absolutely no effort in hiding the sparkling look of purest excitement as her eyes tracked further north than Tevinter, than even Rivain, found the edge of Par Vollen and kept right on going. Up... and up... and _up_.

Oh, the Saints and Powers be! Cue the Hallelujah chorus!

 _'I knew it – I KNEW it! "Island chain" my left arse cheek! Look at you! That's right darling, show me how them archipelagos go AAALL the way up into a whole-!'_ There was a distinctly threatening rumble that pulled the rug right out of her reverie. _'Right_ _.. Can't be too amazed. I'm supposed to live here, or something. Not my fault you bastards are driving me to utter, goddamned distraction with your SECRET GAME CONTENT!'_

Assured her focus was back on track, the Arishok said a few words that she did not understand and pointed to the map.

That she didn't even need to translate. _  
_

Was she Ferelden? Or Orlais? Was she some spy from Tevinter sent to take the Tome when they finally reclaim it?

It was an easy question. She needn't even speak, really. Just a slight motion with her finger. They'd even gone out of their way and gotten a picture so it'd be _easier_ for her to tell them what she knew. But Karmen suspected and agonized over the ramifications of doing so.

He spoke again, another familiar word that she had been taught – _taught so she could spill the beans, like any good, mindless bas_ – but she couldn't remember. Quinn even tried, risking a violent reaction, but it was like her brain was a stalled engine. The more she tried to force it the worse it became.

She couldn’t – she couldn’t-!

Her mask broke. Holding back her fears, and the inevitable rant, the dam she had created for the past four days crumpled under the pressure and came rushing forth.

Right in front of everyone.

Fears that she buried, irrational and ration from what she's seen, from what she _knew_ to be true, and spewed unstoppable and vomitous from her mouth. She could distantly feel her skin becoming a blistering hot. Itchy. As if every hair was standing on end, straight as pins, and scratching against her meager clothing. The room shrank to a point of color on a dark horizon.

By the end she was clearly hysterical but managed to not raise her voice to a piercing shriek. As the room came back into focus abrupt realization slammed into her as unkindly as a runaway bus. Faintly, from far and away like rousing out of a dream, she could hear a voice crying out. One that sounded disturbingly close to her own.

 _"I don't even know how I GOT HERE but I don't want to die, do you understand?!_ _I'd LEAVE you to your fucking business with your fucking book if I could but I CAN'T!_ _"_

Did she just yell at the Arishok? _Did she have a goddamned death wish?_

Fuck. She's dead. The two-man posse that had come with him were already tensing up for a fight, puffing up like a pair of adders ready to strike. Karmen could see her messy demise reflecting in their eyes-

" _Pashaara_."

And then, just like that, nothing. Her heart stopped as silence rolled throughout the small, enclosed space.

So she had no idea what possessed her to keep talking.

"I... No. _Saat_." She swallowed dryly and shook her head at the map. Mind shaken out of the panic it was bogged down in and feeling startling clear. Almost numb. It was out of sheer habit alone did she meet his penetrating gaze again. It invoked more irritated grumbling but no words were outright said from the other men as the Arishok silently bored burning holes into her forehead.

Big guys with damn short fuses. Who would indeed do anything to get their precious book back, including, yes, slaughter a whole city. It was still loads better than the alternative, at least for the time being. This was not about wishful thinking, or panic, but being practical. Shelter, water, food, relative safety; all taken care of at the compound. The same could not be said for the dismal streets of the City of Chains.

Not knowing where she was from left more openings, more freedom. But it also meant that she could bury herself at any time if she couldn't keep her story straight. At some point she needed a story. Something believable. But for now the 'ignorant amnesiac' card was all that was on the table.

She knew how to play that. Keeping up with the act was the real trick.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity the small group broke rank. The Arishok must've made his decision for the words he spoke were to the company that gathered around alone; far too advanced in their meaning for her understanding. They hung heavy in the stale air of the tent.

From the looks on their faces the outlook was dim.

As one both of the men that entered with the Arishok departed in similar fashion of their arrival: not glancing behind them at anyone as they turned out the flap door.

To her keepers the Arishok gave them few words, and left her feeling their gaze washing over her as she could throughout the whole engagement.

He stood, _loomed_ really, as only he could do. Glancing down his nose, as if from across the length of a blade. One leveled at her throat and only just taken away. For now. " _Panahedan, bas._ "

" _Panahedan, Arishok_." The echoing farewell fell from her lips before she had time to even think about it, and then he was gone. A black hole howled in the space that man left behind. Like a cup once overflowing with water falling out the bottom all at once.

Still, she remained.

Fingers – hers, _her_ fingers – flexed to check. A sharp, sweet pain amidst the all too-clear, disembodied feeling from nails into the soft flesh of her palms.

Oh.

_Oh.._

Her head bobbed unconsciously at Goliath and Quinn without looking at them. Too shaken, still too raw. "I think that went.. well. Don't you?" Karmen then stood, took a wobbling step outside and painted the stone next to the tent with her dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TOUCHDOWN FOLKS! Finally an update, so sorry for the wait. Real life just got in the way, as it tends to do. The main character is now set in place, in a very precarious situation for sure, but get ready for some Qunari shenanigans!
> 
> I definitely had some fun with the language of this chapter. It was infuriating, but it was still an experience figuring out what works. I won't be saying how it works because I'm saving it for a later, in-chapter analysis. With the new additions to the canon vocabulary I'm going to have a lot more to put in by the time Karmen is able to hold a conversation in their language, but it'll be GREAT~
> 
> Yes, I'm not saying one way or another WHAT the rest of Par Vollen looks like. Only that it's there and a lot bigger than we expect. The most mysterious place on the map, I just couldn't NOT leave it like that.
> 
> I'm still debating to keep the results of the Trespasser DLC included. That was some seriously rough shit, make no mistake. Was reeling for weeks. I wouldn't be deciding this lightly since I've basically got most of the fic outlined, but I'll definitely be drawing some of the plot from the ending.
> 
> The next chapter is coming soon enough, no worries. I'm diving right into it.
> 
>   QUNLAT VOCABULARY:
> 
>  _Bas/Basra:_ Literally, "thing;" foreign to the Qun; purposeless. Often used as a neutral term to describe non-Qunari people/ Rude term for non-Qunari people.
> 
>  _Itwa:_ Sit
> 
>  _Araanka:_ "Again; once more"
> 
>  _Mashev:_ Can either mean "to eat" or "gruel."
> 
>  _Lokk:_ Water 
> 
> _Eenam:_ Fruit, tangerine
> 
>  _Ebasshra:_ "(We are) grateful"
> 
>  _Shanedan:_ Literally, "I'll hear you." A respectful greeting.
> 
>  _Asal-eb:_ "This one; state of being" – "I", without noting oneself.
> 
>  _Arit na kaari-eb:_ "Do you know of (this person/me)?"
> 
>  _Kaari-eb:_ "Knowledge; state of knowing" – Taken from the word kaari, meaning "to think."
> 
>  _Saat:_ No
> 
>  _Panahedan:_ Goodbye; "Take refuge in safety."


End file.
